


warm your lips against my lips

by whataboutateakettle



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Coda, Episode: s02e13 White Out, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6406006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whataboutateakettle/pseuds/whataboutateakettle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Dude. Chill out,” she mutters and his head whips up stare at her with raised eyebrows until she gets why maybe that was not the best choice of words.</i> // Post 2x13 White Out</p>
            </blockquote>





	warm your lips against my lips

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this got written for 2 reasons:  
> 1\. I had an essay due today so obviously my brain was thinking about anything but.  
> 2\. The _lovely_ [Sara](http://banannabethchase.tumblr.com/post/141927967729/banannabethchase-banannabethchase-questions) was wondering out loud today about Happy and Toby's transition from no-hanky-panky to well, _yes-hanky-panky._ And so it got me thinking, and then it got me writing.

The next morning is fine, it’s fine. The authentic campground breakfast Paige insists they all have, complete with coffee from a thermos, is fine. She sits next to Toby on a small camping stool and neither of them says anything. At least, neither of them says anything about the fact that they spent the whole night in each others arms, huddled for warmth despite the thick sleeping bags around them, that she spent too long listening to his heartbeat before she fell asleep, that he breathed soft kisses into her hair hoping she wouldn’t notice.  

He looks at her with wondering sleepy hopeful eyes and hands her a thermos lid full of coffee and she takes it, takes a sip, and takes a moment. Lets the cup warm her hands, lets the coffee warm her throat, lets the memories of last night warm her mind.

Then the moment turns to hours later, and they’ve spent the whole morning practicing knots with Ralph and Paige before he leaves for camp and then Toby opens a books a million pages thick and she finds a loose nut here, there, everywhere.

Every so often she can feel him watching her, every so often she manages to catch his gaze across the garage, and she locks it with hers, holds it for as long as she can bear.

She spends the whole day thinking about his hands and his chest and his lips and his warm breath on the back of her neck, on the top of her head, over her chapped lips.

She thinks maybe he’d have something to say if she told him what she was thinking about.

She thinks maybe she’s willing to risk it.

She pulls at her jacket, drapes her bag over her shoulder, spends a second too long thinking about her hair, and then takes a deep breath and walks over to his desk.

“Doc,” she starts, and he looks up over the top of his book, waits for her to continue. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”

He frowns, shakes his head, “Oh, no need, my car’s here-”

“ _Doc_ ,” she cuts him off, looks at him pointedly, dips her head ever so slightly and repeats the rest of her sentence slowly. “I’ll give you a ride.”

It dawns on him, slowly but surely and his eyes widen as his books falls down onto his desk with a clatter. “Yes. Okay, sure. Thanks, I mean, for the ride.”

She rolls her eyes and walks away before he can even finish being flustered.

The truck turns into a metal trap of nervous energy and she can only really blame half of it on Toby. And when she parks in front of his building, she leaves her hands on the wheel for a moment, stares at them as she collects the right words, the right courage. She hears his seat belt unfasten.

She knows what she wants and it’s right in front of her. Well, next to her. This has never been the problem before.

“So,” she starts, takes a breath before she starts turning towards him.

But his hands reach her before she even sees him move, pulling her towards him until his lips crash into her; and it’s part want, part need, part inevitability.

She kisses him back, as best as she can, until she drop a hand from his neck to unbuckle herself from her own seat. And then she can properly meet him hallway, bodies stretched over the arm rest, her hands winding around the back of his head, knocking his hat off, pulling him closer.

She rests a hand against his chest as she pulls away, tries to steady her breathing. “Upstairs?”

He raises an eyebrow suddenly, pulls another inch away from her. “I thought you said no hanky-panky?!” He asks, pretending to be confused.

She bites down a smile, more out of principle than anything else, and reaches over to open her door. “You coming?”

Toby replies, with what she can only imagine is a terrible joke, but he jumps out of his side of the truck before even done talking, sprints around to pull the door open for her. Seriously?

She shoots him a glare, jumps out anyway and from there there’s an unspoken agreement to get through his door as quickly as possible. Except that he drops his keys twice as he’s trying to unlock the door.

“Dude. Chill out,” she mutters as he’s bending down a second time and his head whips up stare at her with raised eyebrows until she gets why maybe that was not the best choice of words.

“Do you need me to pick your lock?” she asks, ignoring the sudden frozen elephant between them.

“I got it,” he replies, just as the door finally opens and he gestures for her to step inside first.

He’s gonna have to cool it with the chivalry thing.

And, _well_ , at least she didn’t say that one out loud.

She scans his place, tries to remember the last time she was here when she hears him drop his keys on table behind her and she whips around on her heels.

“Do you want anything to drink?” He asks as she’s stepping towards him.

“Later.” She pulls him down towards her, presses a kiss to the side of his mouth, waits as his hands rest of her waist.

“Do you, uh, do you want to talk?” He asks, his voice sounding like he’s desperately trying to think of something to say right now. And he’s way off base.

She pulls away from him, hands still holding on to his jacket, “ _Later,_ ” she repeats.

He nods, understanding, eager, and finally, finally, leans down and meets her lips again. He tightens his grip at her waist and guides them both back towards his bedroom, bumping only into a couple walls on the way.

His lips don’t leave hers as he pushes at her jacket until it falls onto the floor, then drops his hands to the band of her jeans, dips his finger up under her top until she shivers at the gentle touch. She pushes his hands down, and pulls at his t-shirt until he sheds the jacket the shirt as fast as he can.

And so what, maybe she likes what she sees.

But he notices and starts to smirk, and she waits for him to start to say something so typically Toby before she yanks her town top up over her head and when she looks at him again his gaze has gone from smug to spellbound.

Maybe she smiles a little.

She grabs at his arm and hauls him towards the bed, makes a move to climb over him but he winds an arm around her waist and pulls her down on top of him. She slips a leg in between his, keen to get out of these jeans sooner rather than later, but for now she just tilts her head down, gazes down at him, feels his breath on her jaw for a moment before he stretches his neck up to press his lips right there.

His hands skim her sides, grips at her ribs, and she presses herself against him, him into the mattress, catches his lips again

*********************

 _Later_ , her body feels like warm, satisfied jelly, her breathing is still too fast, her hair a mess. She hasn’t felt this... happy in a long time.

“You mentioned a drink?” she asks, turns her head over to look at him.

He hums, exhausted but pleased. “You want a beer?”

She nods and watches as he kicks off the sheets and gets out of bed, not even bothering to put on any clothes before he heads into the kitchen. A moment later he reappears, two opened beers in one hand and he tucks himself back in before he hand her one of them.

She sits up, takes a sip.  He’s watching her now.

“Good work, Doc,” she smiles, knocking her bottle gentle against his. He grins, pleased.

She’s gonna have to go easy on the compliments, she decides.

“Two things,” she says, looks at him pointedly. “One, we take things slow. And two, no telling the team. Not yet.”

He frowns, looks confused and she continues. “Walter’s no fraternisation policy? He’s gonna freak when he finds out. I don’t wanna have to deal with that right now. Do you?”

He shakes his head, but he’s staring at her like there’s something else he wants to say. “Do you remember anything from the ice? When we were -”

Most of it she’s been trying to forget, to be honest. “Just how cold it was. And that song I couldn’t get out of my head. Why?”

He shrugs, “I’ll tell you later.” And she can’t help but feel like it’s more than he’s making it out to be.

But the nearly dying thing, that’s something else she wants to deal with later.

He wraps an arm around her waist, pulls her across the bed towards him.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she murmurs, takes a gentle swig of her beer.

“I won’t,” he whispers as his head dips down a little and he presses his lips on her neck.

She hums, enjoys the contact, pulls away for a moment only to place her beer on his bedside table, then reaches over and does the same with his. He uses both hands to cup her face, and kisses her deeply, slowly, pushes her back down against the mattress. She feels a moan bubble up her chest, wraps her legs up around him, pulling him closer. 

She wasn’t lying before. He _is_ good.

Maybe they will be too.


End file.
